


Why Are We Helping With Your Daughter's Homework?

by slashmania



Series: 50 Thousand Words (from October to December!) [3]
Category: Inception (2010)
Genre: ...and you don't really consider him a buddy, Cobb brings donuts and coffee!, Eames isn't allowed to be a conman, M/M, School Projects, but it's for one of his kids, but your love interest does?, don't you hate it when your buddy comes over and asks for a favor?, faking working in anything but dreamshare, those are bribes, working without Cobb
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-06
Updated: 2019-10-06
Packaged: 2020-11-25 18:54:20
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,335
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20916914
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/slashmania/pseuds/slashmania
Summary: "I'm not an uncle, darling! You're an uncle- you earned the title because the kids love you and treat you like family. And you already mentioned that you think of Cobb like a brother-""Aw, Arthur, I think of you like a brother too," Cobb said with a smile!"-who you sometimes want to smother with a pillow," Eames finished, sort of satisfied when Cobb's smile lost its brilliance at those words.





	Why Are We Helping With Your Daughter's Homework?

**Author's Note:**

> Late, but still posted and within the word count range I want.  
I think I'll let this one's story run a little bit, I'll see how I feel about it as I try and catch up.
> 
> Day Three: Creation  
3335 words

Cobb dropped something on Eames's desk, and then waited patiently for him to say something about it.

Eames nonchalantly glanced over the top of the file folder Arthur had presented him at the start of the briefing.

"Well?" Cobb prompted Eames, still waiting for a response.

"It looks like a piece of paper, Cobb," Eames commented, already having gone back to reading the information Arthur and collected for him. Such a dear, that Arthur! "I'm busy reading something much more important, all of it approved and compiled by our point man, you know. It's, as the kids would say, the shit."

Eames's chair was turned in just the right direction that when he peeked over his folder again (still nonchalant as fuck), he got to see Arthur attempting to stifle a smile. He caught Arthur's eye and gave him a wink, so pleased with himself because he'd made a bet with himself a month and a half ago when he started working regularly with Arthur that he'd get the man to smile or laugh more often. Eames had started with once a day, then bumped it up to three, noticing that while he and Arthur still had their moments of bickering there was even something fond creeping into Arthur's insults. If you could call them insults anymore.

He'd called Eames a rogue the week before when he could have easily called him a bastard instead. Eames saw all of this as positive.

And since he'd gotten the first positive response of the morning, Eames was willing to give Cobb some more attention. It was only polite since the man occasionally stopped in while his children were in school, set up phone calls or Skyped with Arthur and Eames to give them the help they needed for a difficult case; while he'd said he was done with dreamshare if it meant getting home to his kids again, he still dabbled a bit in the legal dreamshare jobs they'd consult him on.

Eames was all for free help that didn't screw up the jobs he was currently running as an extractor _and_ forger. There were lots of good things to be said about Cobb helping out in this way; one of the best things that could be said was that it meant that the man never had to use the PASIV. And sometimes he'd bring donuts and coffee!

Eames didn't smell any coffee, and when he'd glanced over at Arthur, the man didn't have a donut anywhere near him. Eames could safely guess that whatever was on that paper didn't have anything to do with work.

It was a shame because Eames could have gone for a glazed twist at that moment...

Eames ignored the thought and set the file folder down next to the paper.

He quickly read the information on it, then read it again. Slowly, he looked up at Cobb and tapped his finger on the paper. "This," Eames said clearly, "is your child's homework."

Cobb nodded. "I never said that it wasn't Phillipa's homework."

"Why have you brought me your daughter's homework, Cobb?"

Eames privately thought that the answer could have been something like _I brought you my daughter's homework as one of many little ways to punish you for stealing my point man. He's _my_ Arthur, Eames, and no matter how many times you make that man smile or laugh, he'll always have a knee-jerk reaction and offer me his assistance. Remember, Dead Wife trumps Obvious Crush._

"Git," Eames said half to himself, but really to Cobb, but Cobb wasn't even listening to him. 

Cobb's explanation had drawn Arthur's attention. Arthur had walked over in the relative stealth granted to him by Eames's silent musing over why Cobb did this, and had looked at the paper. It was mostly obscured by Eames's hand now, since he'd gone from tapping it with one finger to laying his hand on top of it during his musing about Cobb. If given another minute, Eames was pretty sure he'd have crumbled the paper up into a ball.

"Eames?" Arthur said. 

"It's just something Phillipa has for homework, Arthur," Cobb began explaining to him, shrugging as if to say _Kids, right?_

But before Eames could interject, Arthur had fallen for Cobb's bait. The kids, the kids plucked at Arthur's heartstrings even better than Cobb in need. Eames could already see that Arthur was getting into that mode of his, that _I'll do whatever I can to make this happen_ sort of mode. And when Eames noticed that it became obvious that Arthur was going to make whatever this was happen, if not for Cobb's sake, than for the children.

When they'd first started working together Arthur and Eames had gotten a little drunk, and Eames had started asking him why he did half of what he did for Cobb. Considering how Cobb turned on him in the dream, hid stuff from him, and so on. Arthur had been leaning against Eames's shoulder, his hair coming lose from the pomade, and he'd ended up saying something that made Eames have the feelings he currently did about Cobb's connection with Arthur.

_It's like- it's like I love Cobb like I'd love my brother, Eames. But I could also smother him with a pillow. He's one of the best extractors now, but really that was what Mal should have been. They'd have been a great team like that if they'd both survived what happened. I mean, even though Cobb didn't k- even if he wasn't the one to go jumping off of buildings, it didn't mean that he wasn't as damaged. Or hurt. Eames, he needed me after what happened. So I followed after him when he needed me, or he'd go on these ridiculously dangerous jobs to try and get back home, and if I didn't go along for those his projection of Mal would just ruin everything. Like fuck it up, just because. Or hurt me when I showed up, just because. And then there were the kids. _

_I never thought I'd like being around kids, Eames. Kids are messy and loud and they cry. Cobb's kids cried a lot after what happened to their mother, obviously. And then they cried some more when Cobb ran and left them with Mal's parents. But I'd go visit them, Eames. Any time I had to go to the states I'd swing over there, all smiles and presents, but still not capable of looking them in the face and explaining that I had no idea when their father was coming home. There was this one time when Marie, Mal's mother, you know, called me up and explained that the children needed to learn how to swim, but both were so nervous that they'd wanted their _Uncle Arthur _to show them how-__  
_

Arthur went on like that for a little while, pulling out his cell phone and showing Eames the few pictures he was willing to keep of Cobb's kids on his phone. There was one of all three of them together, bright-eyed and smiling on the bleachers set up for an indoor swimming pool, judging by the cautionary signs on the wall advising everyone to not run around the swimming pool, the life preserver, and the fact that all three of them were fresh from the water, hair wet, towels draped around them to stop the shivering.

Instead of making a comment about how happy the children looked or how they clearly loved Arthur dearly, still sort of drunk Eames had said _We should go swimming, love._ _Right now, _which caused Arthur to start laughing at the idea considering it was late, and he was sure that neither of them had swim suits.

Keeping all of that in mind as Cobb explained a bit about the homework, Eames looked up to see that Arthur had his arms folded across his chest, nodding to Cobb, basically already in planning mode because if he dropped everything in the past just to help Cobb's kids learn to swim, why wouldn't he help one of them with their homework now?

"It doesn't sound like it will take a lot of time," Arthur said as he turned to Eames. He held out his hand. "May I look at the paper?"

Eames pushed it forwards, and then calmly placed his hands, one atop the other, on the file folder full of Arthur’s research. As if he’d made his preference clear.

He caught Arthur attempting to keep a straight face as he glanced at the folder. “Do you need anything else, or is that sufficient?”

Ah, Arthur was attempting to joke with him now, wasn’t he? Even if Eames a bit miffed about Cobb roping Arthur into doing something for him and his kids, this was already taking the sting out of it. Eames leaned forwards a little conspiratorial despite Cobb standing so close to Eames’s desk, and still standing next to Arthur. Fuck Cobb, this was just an Arthur and Eames thing. Eames tapped the closed file folder and nodded his approval.

“It’s the shit, Arthur.”

And just like Eames had hoped, Arthur started to laugh.

* * *

Phillipa's homework that Cobb felt needed to be shown to two dreamsharers, two criminals, was about a survey.

"Yesterday, Phillipa told me that she had to do a presentation in class. She had to make adult family members fill out a survey about their jobs."

Arthur and Eames were sitting in front of a large wheeled whiteboard that had the instructions stuck on there with a magnet. Cobb, even if he wasn't working a job with them, was now sort of pitching this to them like he would during a briefing for a heist. He stood next to the wheeled whiteboard and used one of Arthur's dry erase markers to start making notes as he spoke.

"She's done it for Miles, me, and her grandmother. It leaves two open spots that would be best for you guys, her uncles."

Eames raised his hand and waited patiently for Cobb to notice him. Cobb turned and noticed how quiet and patient Eames was being, so he pointed at him with the uncapped marker, allowing him to speak.

"Fuck no, Cobb," Eames said, straight to the point.

Arthur, who had his moleskine out and was busy taking notes along with Cobb, had glanced at Eames and frowned. "It's for Phillipa!"

"I'm not an uncle, darling! You're an uncle- you earned the title because the kids love you and treat you like family. And you already mentioned that you think of Cobb like a brother-"

"Aw, Arthur, I think of you like a brother too," Cobb said with a smile!

"-who you sometimes want to smother with a pillow," Eames finished, sort of satisfied when Cobb's smile lost its brilliance at those words.

Arthur's frown deepened. "Can you pretend to be an uncle for a short project? I read the instructions and it's really not going to take a lot- she's going to draw cute little crayon pictures of everybody and create a poster board filled with all the qualities we have or associate with our work. Even things like how and why we became interested in our current jobs."

"But our current jobs aren't always legal! We'd be outing ourselves as dreamshare criminals, Arthur. I know that's one of your top pet peeves!"

"I told you those in confidence. But you also have a point. Cobb, are we expected to create fake careers for her project? Ideally I'd like what she presents to be credible but also not likely to get either me or Eames put in jail. Or killed."

"Don't forget tortured."

Arthur nodded and agreed with Eames. "That too, Cobb. Keep in mind that I'm all for Phillipa getting an A, but I'd also rather not do hard time or get waterboarded as a result of it."

Eames was busy thinking how strange it was that _he_ was the one who was freaking out over safety and secrecy, and there was Arthur, cool and calm, outlining how they possibly could manage the project, get Phillipa an A, and maybe not have anything bad happen.

Maybe.

“Half truths,” Cobb was saying, having already scrawled it on the board. “Basically you’ll pretend that you have an innocent job that won’t draw any attention to you, but use details from your experiences that could relate to it.”

Eames stared at Cobb.

“...You’re basically demanding that we be creative as we lie about what we do?”

"I'm sure that you'll be able to think of something that will fit, Eames. When I mentioned you to Phillipa she became very interested in what your answers would be."

Eames leaned back in his chair and sighed. "I'm going to lie to a small child, aren't I?"

"If it makes you feel better, Eames, I've had to be extremely vague around the kids when I talk about what I do. We're in the same boat."

Eames looked at Arthur and he couldn't help but feel a little reassured by the other man's presence. "You really are the best, you know?"

Cobb began clearing his throat, obviously trying to get Arthur and Eames back on track. He turned back to the board and began writing the phrase, "Necessity is the mother of invention."

"I guess that applies, vaguely. I personally would have mentioned something about creativity, illusion, or acting..."

And Cobb continued writing on the board- he wrote the name Arthur. He wrote the name Eames.

"Let's brainstorm," Cobb was saying. "Arthur, if you had to tell someone what your job was, what would you say?"

Arthur shrugged. "Architect would probably be the closest to what I do in dreamshare. Just an architect who doesn't know several forms of self-defense..."

"Let me guess, I'm an actor. Or an investigator of some kind? Why can't I just be a conman? That's really straightforward and to the point!"

"Because _conman_ isn't a profession I want linked to a man my daughter is claiming as an uncle. So no, Eames, you'll be anything but a criminal. Try acting or art or something else creative."

It got Eames thinking then. What they were doing was creating alternate work identities that Phillipa could do a grade school presentation about. It didn't have to be in depth, just believable. Creation was what Eames excelled in. Really any dreamsharer excelled in it given the nature of the field and the way they worked. Entering the dreams of others, taking what used to be abstract concepts and half-remembered things and making them apply to the real world and influence things the way they needed them to, depending on their client's wishes.

Okay, so Eames could probably make this work. It didn't have to be annoying or upsetting, at all.

"Fine. I'm an actor, then. I believe I can apply enough of what got me into dreamshare and forging to what could make me a decent, but not necessarily well known actor. It's fine. I'll do this for your daughter, Cobb, but we have to agree on something, okay?"

Cobb had been busy writing down the notes about which jobs Arthur and Eames had considered. Arthur was also taking notes on it, but that was just what Arthur did when he was planning and trying to stay on the same page with everyone else.

Cobb looked over at Eames, half-way finished writing the phrase _not a conman_ under Eames's name. Cobb had gotten one of two lines beneath the word _conman_, as if Eames needed it.

"You've brought us your daughter's homework and have literally taken over time that could be better used for jobs that we're considering at the moment. Pay us back for our time and we'll have this survey thing finished for Phillipa by tomorrow."

Cobb looked at the instructions again, noting when the project was due, and then nodded. "I can do that. If you guys finish it tomorrow, Phillipa will have plenty of time to make the poster board and decorate it. Did I tell you that the teacher is going to video tape each student giving their presentation so parents can keep it?"

Eames frowned over the thought of anything they were going to be lying about getting immortalized on film and sent to Cobb.

When they had a moment, Eames was going to privately ask Arthur how offended Cobb would be if he stole that tape from him and burned it, you know, just in case something damning was included? Or just because he didn't even want half-true information spread about him by a grade schooler?

"I'll be sure to bring you guys coffee and donuts bright and early tomorrow!"

And Eames would be lying just a little bit if he said he didn't think that was a decent start for how tomorrow would likely go.

"Fine, we'll be ready for you."

They outlined a few more points, mainly setting up dates as reference points, then Cobb left them with a full whiteboard and the set of instructions.

Arthur was double-checking his notes to be accurate, and Eames was reconsidering his most recent life choices.

Then he glanced at Arthur, so focused on his silly moleskine, and recalled why some of his most recent life choices were the best, that he'd basically sold his soul for a glazed twist or whichever donut Cobb ended up selecting while at the donut shop he liked to go to, so it would be a box of donuts large enough for two men with a sweet tooth. Eames didn't care, just so long as there was an even ratio of glazed to plain to jelly filled...and maple bars because they were great.

And the coffee, Eames shouldn't forget the coffee too.

But then Arthur caught him looking and then smiled widely for him. "I think that this might be a nice break for us, Eames. It'll give me a chance to be creative in more than just paradoxical architecture. This should be child's play for you!"

Eames didn't want to dampen the point man's enthusiasm. He knew that Arthur loved Cobb's kids. He'd want Phillipa to do well on her presentation so it shouldn't really be any hardship for Eames to lie creatively along with Arthur for Phillipa's sake.

So Eames smiled back and said, "We'll have to come up with some way to use the phrase _pure creation_ for either of our fake jobs. But I'm really hoping that whoever I'm supposed to be is allowed to think that Cobb is a git."

"Only if whoever I'm supposed to be is allowed to occasionally think of smothering Cobb with a pillow."

Arthur and Eames shook on it, making it official.

"I suggest that we keep things simple, be creative, but also not do anything that is going to become too difficult for Phillipa to explain to one teacher and a classroom full of her peers. But I'm also sort of tempted to make her presentation blow all the others out of the water."

"I'm aware that you want her to get an A, darling. From what you've told me she's a very smart girl, so I'm sure she'll earn the grade all by herself. We'll play normal, sort of uninteresting, but still creative representations of ourselves as dream criminals, but who somehow have normal day jobs."

"I think that this will be one of the easiest things we've done recently. Come on, the inception of Robert Fischer was hard."

Eames pitched in, offering another thing that could feasibly be more difficult than helping a little girl do her homework. Even if he still had some lingering doubts.

"Several months spent working back to back jobs will make this task seem like a breeze."

"Good," Arthur said before standing up and approaching the board. "I'm going to make you a copy of that instruction sheet so you can come up with answers for your acting persona. We'll compare our answers and strengthen the story tomorrow."


End file.
